Placeholder: Wash away my troubles Wash away my pain With the rain in Shambala Wash away my sorrow Wash away my shame With the rain in Shambala Wash away my troubles Wash away my pain With the rain in Shambala Wash away my sorrow Wash away my shame With the rain in Shambala

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@generalpha

Prompt

Wash away my troubles Wash away my pain With the rain in Shambala Wash away my sorrow Wash away my shame With the rain in Shambala

large hands

1 year ago

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SDXL

Guidance Scale

7

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3328 × 4992

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In a place where no one ever came close to dreaming about... a place from a foaming brain, there is a tiny ripple of truth that duplicates sanity to reality... existence of self-pity and triumph! This is a long gone dream in which only lost souls find mercy from a god of an insane creation! Blowing cold winds that come from an uneven breathing pattern warm the frigid core of the sun! Rotting brain from inside the brittle bone of an old branch impatiently waiting to outgrow the sky… You are lost
[Dahlia Death] "i feel pain, i feel it, i feel that i am in Hell" You say: "You have to be honest, i will not help you if you lie to me" The man says: "You have to be honest, i will not help you if you lie to me" The man says: "When i felt the truck losing control, i saw a shadow, and a black cloud above me, they were very strange, and they were moving really fast. "When i felt the truck losing control, i saw a shadow, and a black cloud above me, they were very strange,
What dark visions will they unleash? I hear panting in the shadows, a rumbling beneath the floor. Something is stirring in the netherworld, drawn by the call of pen against paper. A sudden gasp tears through the tense quiet. The monsters are coming, scrabbling against the veil that separates our worlds. I must capture their frenzied essence before they tear through, bring strange terrors spilling out into the night. My pen flies, guided by otherworldly hands. A tale is forming, one that will ke
Defiler, tempter, unclean spirit - These titles ring hollow, sound robotic and terse. They fail to capture your complex essence, Your brilliance dimmed by humanity's curse. Somewhere deep beneath that fearsome facade, Behind the hellfire burning in your eyes, There yet remains some fragment, some glimmer Of the light you lost to time and bitter lies.
[Dahlia Death] "You have to be honest, i will not help you if you lie to me" You ask "tell me more about this shadow... could it be... a devil?" The man looks at you with a worried look, he says: "The shadow was very dark, and it seemed to be made out of fire, with horns and cloven hoofs"
Dahlia raised her voice, commanding, absolute: "Foul Azazel, you are banished, wretch accursed! Begone from mortal realms, demonic fiend. By sacred powers vested in me, goddess And guardian of departed souls, I cast Your wickedness back to hellish confines. No more shall innocence fall prey to you— For one hundred years of penance you are bound. My word is law; this sentence you shall serve.
With growing desperation, rough hands set about the rote ritual. Fragrant beans surrendered to grinding teeth and pounding stone, remnants scattering upon the dank air in aromatic puffs. As smoke swirled with inherent portents, a raging heart stirred restlessly. Within the crude lair, imaginings of ruin floated on the fumes of percolating darkness. Scrawls upon stolen parchment told of enemies to vanquish and towns to despoil, but the unseen Taskmaster's demands loomed. Lips curled back in a sou
[Philippe Caza] God/Deicide
[Dahlia Death] "You have to be honest, i will not help you if you lie to me" You ask "tell me more about this shadow... could it be... a devil?" The man looks at you with a worried look, he says: "The shadow was very dark, and it seemed to be made out of fire, with horns and cloven hoofs"
[Disenchantment, Queen Dagmar] spilt to slake her savage thirst. Only when a merchant lord dared question her judgement did Dagmar's lips peel back in a bone-chilling snarl. The oaf wilted as her words flayed flesh from mind, left shaking in a heap upon the floor. This display sated her black humor for now. With a flick of cerulean silk Dagmar rose, grace incarnate yet death given mortal form. Night's frigid wings spread across the cloudy sky as she swept from the hall in a flurry of snow. None
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But as Megan continued her journey, she realized that the power of the talisman was not without its challenges. The intoxicating allure of the sect's practices began to consume her, blurring the line between her newfound liberation and the responsibilities of everyday life. She found herself torn between her desire for exploration and the need to maintain a sense of balance in the outside world. As the experiences multiplied, Megan grappled with the question of where her true path lay. Was she m
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